


Dinner Preparations (Interrupted)

by thursdayshunter



Series: House in the Woods [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Burning, Cannibalism, Castration, Hunting Humans, Hurt Dean, Injury Recovery, Mental Torture, Non-Consensual Touching, OMC witch, Object Insertion, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective John Winchester, Rescue, Restraints, Speculum, Surgery, Torture, Violence, mentions of eating people, no one gets eaten YAY (at least in this one), pre-season one dean, though really horrible shit does happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdayshunter/pseuds/thursdayshunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ALTERNATE VERSION/ENDING for "Dinner Preparations" without the Major Character Death but still dark.</p><p>His belongings were gathered up and removed from the room as Dean looked around. He was currently in the kitchen it seemed as he took in his surroundings and his eyes landed on an unnaturally large oven.</p><p>It was something straight out of a Hansel and Gretel nightmare that he didn’t want a thing to do with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Preparations (Interrupted)

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS
> 
> There is blatant talk of cannibalizing people and cooking people. This fic is the alternate ending for the original prompt fill where there is NO major character death BUT Dean still goes through it. There are notable differences between this version and the first (darker in some ways and not in others)...not really sure you could ever call this a happy ending...
> 
> Dean does survive but it is going to take awhile before he's physically fine and even longer for everything mental. Plus the damage done to his body is very...extensive. Dean lives but he suffers A LOT first.
> 
> PLEASE READ ALL THE TAGS.
> 
> More info at bottom.

Dean’s head pounded, his vision blurred and everything seemed to ache. “Well didn’t I find a pretty one this time? Nice supple skin, a meaty ass and thighs.” Hands moved over his body as Dean moaned lowly in pain. His head lulled to the side and his eyes fluttered as he failed to pry them open.

He was hauled up as he tried to focus and the hands on him disappeared leaving him laid out on a hard surface. It was difficult to focus on his surroundings and hard to remember how he’d gotten to this point. The last thing Dean remembered was stumbling across a house in the middle of the woods and thinking how out of place it looked.

“Oh I bet you’ll taste delicious. Better than the last one. He didn’t have much meat on him but he had a nice flavor with the right seasoning.”

There was a tugging on Dean’s feet as his shoes were pulled off and fell to the floor with dull thuds. His socks were next as he struggled to move away but a hand gripped the back of his head and then his head knocked off the wooden surface he was laid out on.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Such language.” The older man tsked at him as Dean’s right arm was yanked out from under him and he groaned as the other was moved away from his body. Rope bit into the skin of his wrists as his arms were secured down.

Dean’s vision swam and his awareness went in and out as both of his legs were tied down so they were spread obscenely wide to the point his joints ached. “Gonna kill ya.” He managed after groaning in pain, “First thing.” The rope around his ankles and wrists didn’t give, tight and coarse, as the old man moved around.

“Where did I put those scissors?” the sound of footsteps went away and slowly returned after a few minutes, “I’ll have to clean you up and out before preparing you, of course. Don’t want to consume something accidentally. I like everything seasoned and prepared perfectly. After so many years of this I've gotten it down to an art form I’m quite proud of.”

The sound of scissors snipping caught Dean’s attention and air brushed against his legs as his pants were methodically cut away. “The fuck?”

“You really shouldn’t wander around in the woods. It isn’t safe you know.” There was amusement in the tone as the man kept cutting away Dean’s pants before tossing the ruined jeans away. “There is some nice meat on these thighs of yours. They’re going to taste good.” A low laugh, “You’re quite bowlegged, aren’t you?”

Dean growled lowly as he forced himself to try to focus past the pain and the dizziness of multiple blows to the head. He couldn’t quite get his thoughts in order or his focus back to normal but he could make out some of his surroundings.

He was laid out on a large wooden table with some kind of thing around the outside of it that reminded him a bit of guttering on a house. His attention switched from the table as he jerked when the old man cut away his underwear and gripped his ass.

“I was very lucky this time. Lots of good meat here. Lots of firm muscle. This will look nice once it’s stuffed full.”

A hand reached under him and gripped his dick before pulling it back. The same hand touched his balls idly before releasing them and moving back up to his ass.

“Get your hands the fuck off of me!”

“It’s tempting to cut that tongue out and cook it separately. Youth these days seem to be rude by nature. It’s a shame.” The tone was disappointed and Dean tried to jerk his leg so he could kick him. He didn’t know who the fuck this old man was or what he was but Dean wanted to hurt him and he wanted to kill him.

“Fuck you.”

There was no response besides the sound of his shirts being cut away and they joined the rest of his clothing on the ground. Fingers easily removed his watch and jewelry despite protests and his attempts to bite the old man. “I’ll have to burn all of this, of course. I can’t have a bunch of useless items laying around and cluttering up my home. I only keep the license of my meals to go with my before and after images so I can look back at my different recipes.”

His belongings were gathered up and removed from the room as Dean looked around. It seemed he was currently in the kitchen as he took in his surroundings and his eyes landed on an unnaturally large oven.

It was something straight out of a Hansel and Gretel nightmare that he didn’t want a thing to do with.

A glance around behind him showed old looking books in a bookshelf just outside of the kitchen area and various items around the room that screamed of the supernatural. There were a few odd items he couldn’t figure out.

The rest looked normal.

Dean wasn’t completely sure what to make of it as he watched his clothing being deposited into the large fireplace. It slowly caught fire and started to burn as the old man walked back towards him with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“I haven’t quite gotten this step down as well as the others but the drains help with the mess.”

A low squeak sounded before water started pouring over his skin as the old man started to hose him off. It was a cool, steady stream and it was followed up with a sponge that moved over his skin. “You’re fucking sick in the head and I’m going to shove your old crazy ass in that fucking oven the second I get free.”

“Sure you are.” Now the amusement was even more blatantly clear and Dean growled as he yanked at his restraints but the rope only dug into his skin, rubbing and cutting, as he tried to free himself. He managed to cut his wrists up and the old man continued cleaning him up while moving down to his legs as though Dean hadn’t even moved.

It was when the old man reached his ass that the threats flowed from his mouth without pause and full of vitriol. “Touch me there and I’ll fucking gut you. I’ll carve your eyes out and shove them down your fucking throat you sick fuck.”

His ass was scrubbed and his hole was cleaned out regardless of his threats, struggles and attempts at kicking. Next a hand reached for his dick and balls, spraying and scrubbing them, before going on down his legs and eventually finishing at his feet.

“Go ahead. Free me to clean the front I fucking dare you old man.”

“I’ve done this enough I have a system.”

Dean really should have expected to have his head slammed into the table again as he lost consciousness. When he surfaced with a pained sound his left wrist was in the process of getting retied and he tried yanking it away but dizziness slammed into him.

“I’ll let you dry while I get the ingredients. I have a new recipe to try and I think it’ll go perfectly with you.” A hand patted his ass before the sound of cabinets and drawers opening filled the air. Different items ended up on the island in the center of the kitchen along with a cutting board and several different knives. A huge stack of large mixing bowls was piled together off to the side.

“Is this where all of those guys disappeared to?” Dean demanded, “Your fucking crazy cabin in the woods? You’re eating them?”

The old man glanced over at him with a small smile and turned around to open the huge oven. “Good thing I added fresh wood this morning. I’ll have a nice fire going in time when I’m finished preparing you. Something smaller though so I can get a slower cook. The meat is always more juicy and succulent if it’s slower.”

“You’re not going to fucking prepare anything! I’m sure as fuck not going in that fucking oven.”

A few minutes passed in silence as Dean continued to tug at the rope, trying to look for weakness and only getting himself cut up even worse. The skin around his ankles felt raw and his wrists were bloody. When Dean finally glanced back over at the old man where he could see a low fire burning away in the huge oven.

“Once I’m finished preparing you I’ll have you slow cooking for hours in my oven.” The old man turned to his set up at the island, placing a vegetable on the cutting board and picking up a knife. “You’ll be cooked alive, of course, and will feel the fire slowly cooking your flesh. I do love the screams. I think the terror of knowing what’s happening adds something… _more_. Then I'll carve off a nice, juicy chunk to start my meal off with.”

“Sick fuck!”

The sound of cutting filled the kitchen, “I know you’re going to taste delicious. All that meat on your body with just enough plumpness to add to your flavor. Right there in those thick thighs, that little pouch on your belly and your very plump ass. You were practically gift wrapped for me.” A hungry look took over the old man’s features. “I always hope my latest meal isn’t too skinny. I want meat on the bones, you know? Something to really dig my teeth into and younger men always have the best flavor. I almost don't need to inject any marinade but I'm afraid that I do love the added flavor it gives your meat.”

Dean yanked at the rope harder not caring how much pain it was causing him as it rubbed his skin raw and drew more blood. “You’re not going to get anywhere near me. I’m going to kill you. I’ll fucking kill you and burn you in that fucking oven.”

The old man neared him and rubbed a hand along his side near his belly, “Just enough extra right here and in your thighs.”

“Get your hands off!”

A sigh escaped, “Struggle all you want but it won’t stop the inevitable. The moment you’re completely prepared and I’m ready I’m going to start cooking you. You’ll know the truth when you’re cooking alive. The fire will be building up underneath you and cooking your pretty freckled skin, heating your soft belly and carefully cooking your insides.”

Terror twisted inside him and Dean could feel panic trying to steal the breath right from his lungs. He wasn’t going out like this. There was no way he was going to be cooked alive and eaten but the old man was painting a very vivid image in his mind.

The cutting and chopping resumed.

“I think I’ll put an apple in your mouth before. I know that’s typically used for hogs but I think it’s just the thing for you. I’ll miss the loud screams, of course, but presentation is just as important as taste and I’ve always wanted to cook a meal with an apple stuffed in the mouth. Those plump lips of yours will look perfect around a bright red apple.”

The vegetables were added to the large pans on the stove and the old man started on pouring ingredients into a couple bowls. Dean couldn’t quite make out what the old man was cutting and cooking but he could smell it well enough.

“I’m quite excited about dinner tonight. You’ll last me for days but tonight, hot out of the oven and fresh, you’ll be at peak flavor. I always go for the thighs first, they’re my favorite. Thinking about it, though, I’m almost tempted to remove your balls and dick before putting you in and then fry them as a side or possibly a snack while I wait.”

Dean yanked viciously at the rope, “Let me go! Fucking let me go right fucking now you crazy son of a bitch! Fuck fuck fuck!”

“I think I will. I haven’t had fried balls in awhile. They remind me of mountain oysters. Have you had those? They’re delicious and it’s fortunate that I still have some sauce left over that would go nicely with fried balls.”

He hauled out a pot, poured in some oil and turned it up before pulling out more ingredients from the cabinet. A breading mix and a shallow bowl ended up off to the side near the sink.

“I really am looking forward to this. I’ve been out of fresh meat for several days, that last young man didn’t have much meat on him I’m afraid and it really was luck that you stumbled upon my home. I saw you when I glanced out the window and I just knew you’d make a delicious meal. You saved me having to lure someone out here.”

The kitchen grew warmer as the oven heated and Dean could see the glow of the fire through the window as the scent of cooking food filled the kitchen.

“And I have a new stuffing recipe to try as well! It has a different seasoning that I just know is going to really add to your overall flavor. With your size, all of that meat on your bones, I’m going to make one of my largest portions. I want you nice and stuffed full when I put you in to cook. Your belly will be bulging with stuffing when I'm finished.”

“You’re going to die.” Dean glared, still working at his bindings and failing repeatedly. “You’re going to die begging for mercy and I’m going to enjoy it. Every single fucking minute you beg me.”

A soft laugh escaped, “Your parents should have washed that filthy mouth of yours out more often. You must have been a handful.” The old man moved back to the stove to add more ingredients into the huge pan before stirring. Dean could hear him humming under his breath as he moved about the kitchen.

He poured some other ingredients into another large bowl, stirring and still humming, before picking up a baster and walking towards Dean. “Get away from me. Get the fuck away.”

The old man only grinned at him and stuck the baster into the bowl before he started to add the oil to Dean’s body. “This might go a little faster if…” he trailed off and soon the mixture, some kind of oil, was being lightly poured along Dean’s body. “There we go.”

After the bowl was set aside fingers started spreading the oil around. The old man brushed the oil over Dean’s arms, his back and legs making sure to liberally coat both his ass and thighs. Some was added to Dean’s face despite his thrashing and threats.

Fingers knotted in his hair again and Dean expected to get his head slammed off the table but instead his head was yanked up and his throat, collar bone and some of his chest were coated with oil. Afterwards the bowl was placed down and the old man came back.

Dean jolted when hands touched him again. They were pushing and working his skin and muscles methodically. “I can already imagine how you’re going to taste.” Fingers worked his body, rubbing the oil in more and digging into Dean’s muscles.

It was the feeling of a tongue, coupled with hot breath, that had Dean screaming for help.

“Help! Someone help me! Fuck. Help please HELP!!”

The tongue pressed against him and licked at his thigh, “Delicious and I haven’t even finished.” The hands moved over him, tongue tasting and pressing, as Dean shouted and begged. “Smell that? That’s going in the mix for the stuffing. I’ve made more than enough to fill you up with.

Once more the old man was over by the stove, bringing the pan to the island and mixing things together. Multiple large mixing bowls joined the others on the island once the cutting board had been removed. Box upon box was opened, dumped into the bowls, as the old man mixed things together. As he lay there, tied down, Dean could feel the circulating air brushing his oil covered skin and prayed his father would come this way during the hunt.

Dean had promised he could handle this. He had promised that he could take this part of the woods and his father the other but it was more than obvious he couldn’t. Dean didn’t want to die and he sure didn’t want to fucking burn to death in an oven for some crazy old man’s dinner.

The sight of a huge kitchen utensil with a bulb-like end that he’d never seen before had his eyes widening and his body tensing up. “This part is a little harder but I bought a speculum specifically for stuffing.” A metal object was waved in the air as the old man mentioned the speculum. "I'll have to go through several different lengths of my own personal homemade kitchen implements to get the stuffing deep enough."

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“This is the most important part of the dish and with your size I need a larger amount of stuffing. A nice dense stuffing, I have found, works best.” The conversational tone was starting to really terrify Dean, “I always make a bunch so I can completely stuff my meal. Need to add some melted butter before the stuffing but first I just need to finish clearing the rest out. Anything in that stomach of yours and your intestines will have to go. I only want butter and stuffing inside of you when you're cooking."

A book was laid out and a finger traced over Dean’s back as the old man murmured something in a foreign language Dean had never heard before. He jerked in surprise when his stomach ached as it was completely emptied. Dean felt different and he tried to make sense of the old man’s words and the feeling in his body. More words followed and it felt like something was tingling all over his body.

"There we go. Empty and completely hairless."

He didn't have long to wonder at what had happened before something, a different baster, pushed into his ass. Dean jerked at the warm feeling of melted butter being squirted inside him. Once the butter had been added the baster was slipped out and a thumb rubbed over his hole.

"I'll add some more butter once I get you opened enough to stuff."

His ass burned as the old man inserted the speculum without preparation and started spreading his hole open. Dean sobbed at the horrible pain and tried to clench up but the tool kept spreading him wider and wider. “Fuck! Ow I’m going to kill you. I’ll torture you first." he continued sobbing in pain, "You’re dead...fucking dead!”

“I think we can go a little more. I’m going to stuff all of it in and I can get more in if the hole is open much wider.” Dean struggled to stop sobbing through the pain as his ass stretched wider until there was a sound of delight coming from the old man. “There it is. Nice and open. Look at that healthy, pink little hole. It's going to look perfect leaking stuffing when I pull you out of the oven to carve up.”

The baster was slipped back inside him once more and warm liquid was poured into his aching ass. More and more butter was emptied into him until the empty bowl was set down.

"Doesn't that just look perfect? Glistening with rich, creamy butter and ready for one of my favorite parts." A pleased hum sounded, “Some of it is leaking back out of that pretty hole of yours. Oh you’re just delicious looking. I might be tempted to start on this meaty ass of yours first.”

Something warm was pushed against his ass after a few seconds and the tool he’d seen earlier pushed the stuffing inside him. He startled and tried to shy away but his bindings kept him in place and the tool kept him wide open.

“I’m going to have all of these bowls empty when I’m finished. It’s very important to get the right amount of stuffing inside but there is never such a thing as too much. I made quite a few bowls and I know I can get all of it in you. I’ve gotten portions down over the years and I’ll have some extra on the side for later.”

Dean fought through the pain in his ass and the feeling of the old man shoving more and more stuffing into him. He felt full and achy as the old man finished the first large bowl.

“One down and seven more bowls to go. All of them large, of course, because I'm making sure you're nice and bloated for me.” A new bowl was brought over before he started talking again, “This has me thinking about the one time I tried out this new idea of mine that turned out beautifully and I  _almost_  replicated with you. After I had thoroughly cleaned out the young man I’d caught for my meal I secured him down so his ass was raised up and inserted the tubing that was part of an enema kit. It was perfect for this new broth I’d created and once his stomach had swelled with it I plugged him up with a large carrot, coated him in a rich seasoned butter mixture until that tan skin shined and put him in the oven. Oh it was such a delicious meal. I had my stuffing on the side, of course, and the broth added to the flavor of the meat.”

“Sick fucker. You’ll get yours.  _Fuck_.”

Dean panted as his cheek rested against the wooden table and his body trembled in terror.

"There is something about seeing my meal's stomach swollen with stuffing or broth before sliding the pan into the oven. I love seeing that nice, plump belly hanging under them as they’re cooking."

More stuffing was shoved into Dean as the instrument kept pushing it further and further inside. He could practically feel it as the stuffing filled him up, moving deeper and deeper into him. With each bowl he could feel tears slipping down his cheeks and the ache in his ass increased. The old man left after the third bowl and came back with a new one as well as a longer tool with the same bulb-like end. "Got to make sure I get the stuffing in as far as possible. You might experience some pain from this tool moving through your intestines but nothing fatal. I need to make sure you're thoroughly stuffed."

The humming from earlier resumed as Dean sobbed and begged as the longer tool pushed all of the stuffing deeper within him. He could feel the tool inside him where it had no business being as the stuffing was forced through him. After a few bowls he was left there with the tool shoved deep inside his ass while the old man mixed up some more stuffing.

"I almost thought of using a long dildo for this part but this tool does a good job."

By the sixth bowl Dean could only lay there, twitching and sobbing brokenly, as the old man continued adding more and more stuffing, “Almost finished. This bowl and two more left. Then I'll make another two bowls up for the other end. I need that belly of yours close to bursting with stuffing.” When the last bowl was empty Dean was still sobbing and shuddering. He felt bloated and unnaturally full.

“Should I use a carrot this time or something else? I have a nice fat carrot that’ll keep that stuffing inside while you cook but watching the stuffing lazily leaking out during the cooking process is quite rewarding…both are good choices.”

There was rummaging around in the fridge and another drawer. The water turned on as the old man cleaned the carrot. As he turned Dean could see the carrot in question and it wasn’t a normal sized carrot. It was large and he didn’t want that thing anywhere near his aching hole. He tried moving but each movement had pain blazing through him.

Dean cringed at the pressure in his ass when the speculum was removed and the carrot was shoved inside forcing stuffing further into him until he could feel his hole spread out wide where the end of the carrot stuck out. The long leaves at the end of the carrot brushed against him where they were hanging out of his ass.

“Were you out in the woods alone? Or did you have a friend you were with? I found your gun and that isn’t typical for a young man out in the woods. Something I don’t see very often.”

He didn’t say a word about his father or anything about why he was in the woods. There wasn’t a point. If this wasn’t a normal human Dean wasn’t going to give away that hunters were aware of guys disappearing.

The old man left him once more and continued preparing the rest of his meal as Dean’s inner muscles clenched around the large carrot and stuffing buried inside him. “I would almost have cut your belly open and placed the stuffing inside there but as I mentioned I prefer to cook my meals alive and I'll have two bowls to stuff down your throat for your belly. You'll really look nice and bloated with stuffing when I'm done."

Dean’s head lulled on the table as he tugged at the ropes and groaned lowly. He jolted back into focus when the table he was on started to move, “What the—?”

“It helps me get you into the oven. It’s harder to carry you once I get you on the pan.”

“I have no intention of helping you get me onto a fucking pan let alone into the oven.”

“Oh I know but I have plenty of practice and I’m quite a bit stronger than I look.”

He really should have expected the blow to his head and the lack of awareness as his vision went out, his focus gone and he felt like he was floating. Idly Dean felt his wrists being freed and his ankles. He felt himself getting shifted onto his back as melted butter was rubbed into his skin.

"Look at that." a hand rubbed seasoned butter onto his belly where it bulged slightly, "Already such a nice, full swell from the stuffing. I'm sure I could have gotten more in but that's what the other bowls are for after all. Once I get all of that stuffing down your throat your belly is going to be nice and fat." Dean was rolled back over once he was thoroughly coated on the other side and hauled up into a new position.

It wasn’t normal. No old man should have that kind of strength and as though hearing his thoughts the old man responded.

“Magic is good for many things and increasing strength is just one of them. It’s extremely helpful with preparing meals and after several centuries of luring young men I have the spell down perfectly. Almost as perfectly as I have down the one to clean everything in you out so my meal isn’t tainted.”

A fucking cannibal warlock. What the fuck?

Dean’s mind raced and he didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until he heard the laugh. “Cannibalism came first and magic second, sadly, or I’d look much younger. I’ve yet to want to sacrifice what’s needed for my youth when I can simply use magic to maintain myself as I am. Back before magic I killed my meals, cleaned them and then prepared them. Now everything is much simpler.”

His body was easily moved as a pan was slid onto the table and Dean ended up on it. The old man hauled his arms behind his back and tied them together with wire that sliced into Dean’s skin before tying Dean’s ankles together with another length of wire. Something was tied around his neck, moved under his body and secured to the wire at his feet so he couldn’t raise himself up.

When it was all finished his legs were tucked up under him and his body was folded with his limbs secured. Another wire was wrapped tightly around his dick and balls to the point where he started to sob at the painful pressure.

Footsteps moved away and came back. Dean’s head was yanked up, his mouth pried open and a metal ring was shoved inside. It forced his mouth open as the old man buckled it behind his head.

“This will help keep your mouth open for this last part.”

Two bowls of stuffing were set down near him along with the shorter homemade tool from before. Dean only had a few seconds of terror before stuffing was being forced down his throat. He swallowed it down out of reflex so he could breath and tried desperately to drag in air as stuffing was repeated forced down with that same tool that had pushed it deep into his ass.

Dean’s empty stomach ached violently as more and more stuffing was forced down his throat. He could feel the way his stomach stretched as it was filled beyond capacity but the old man didn’t stop until both bowls were empty and tears were spilling down Dean’s cheeks.

A sob of relief escaped when the last bowl was empty but Dean only had a few seconds after the ring was removed before an apple was shoved in. His mouth was forced shut so his teeth bit into the apple and something was tied behind his head securing the apple in place.   

* * *

 

“There we go. That should keep the apple in your mouth so it doesn't fall out during the cooking process.” Lawrence grinned at the delicious picture in front of him. The apple stuffed in the mouth really added to the overall presentation. “You’re almost ready and just in time. I’m going to enjoy this,” he leaned in close, “I haven’t eaten a hunter in a couple decades and never one as young and fresh as you are.”

He reached under Dean and rubbed against the full swell of Dean's distended belly where the stuffing filled his stomach and intestines. It was a larger amount of stuffing then normal but to see and feel the plumpness of the hunter's belly had him filled with undeniable satisfaction. He moved his hand over the swell as the hunter whimpered and cried on the pan.

Lawrence went back over to the island and picked up his seasoned oil mixture before moving back to his squirming meal. Humming to himself, sadistic pleasure coursing through him, Lawrence added some more to soft, tan skin. There was enough seasoned butter on the hunter's belly and thighs but he didn't think there was enough oil elsewhere. He picked up his brush and quickly moved it over the newest coating.

Standing behind the hunter he liberally brushed oil onto the soft dick and balls which were turning a dark color with the wire wrapped tightly around them. He brushed over the swell of the hunter's gloriously plump ass and tempting thighs. This was going to be one of his better meals. Lawrence finished with a flourish as he brushed oil on the hunter's freckled cheeks and grinned at the apple stuffed in his mouth.

"I'm really going to enjoy this." he grabbed his camera, wanting to capture the before and after process of his meal, as he snapped a few pictures from each angle. The camera was placed down on the counter before Lawrence moved over to the oven where he’d placed his sharpest knife over the open flame of his stove top. For now he left the second knife over the fire in case he needed it.

The added humiliation of what he was about to do before shoving the hunter in to cook had a gleeful smile taking over his features. He wasn’t just going to cut off those soft little balls but he was going to remove everything.

Lawrence practically walked with a bounce in his step as he moved back to the table and behind Dean as he stared at the very dark colored balls and dick. “Feel free to let me know exactly how badly this hurts.”

The red hot blade slowly started to cut Dean’s dick and balls off, burning the flesh and helping to cauterize the wound, as he hummed under his breath.

Howls filled the kitchen. Pained and terrified howls seemingly ripped themselves from Dean’s apple stuffed mouth as Lawrence continued to cut until he’d successfully removed Dean’s dick and those tempting little balls.

The sizzle and burn of the knife against Dean’s cut and bleeding skin had him grinning wider. “I’ll get the other one. It’s a bit hotter. I wouldn’t want to get blood all over my meal, would I?”

Dean only sobbed and sobbed as Lawrence collected the other knife. He gleefully pressed it against the skin where Dean’s dick and balls used to be until the wound had stopped bleeding. The skin was burnt, red and puffy, but Lawrence was rather pleased with the end product.

“Don’t you look perfect now?” he cleaned up the mess, humming as the blood was wiped up and the cut area was coated liberally with melted butter. With a skip in his step he moved over to the counter, picked up his marinade injector and the bowl with his homemade marinade, before filling the injector. Humming he stuck the needle into the meat of Dean's right thigh, injecting the marinade, before he slowly started moving around. Lawrence made sure to inject plenty of the marinade into Dean's thighs, the meat of his round ass, this arms and various points along his delicious meal's body. The marinade would make sure to add plenty of additional flavor to Dean's natural rich taste, something that would compliment the stuffing, and it had the added benefit of causing Dean to sob out into the apple each time he injected more of the marinade into him. "That was my special, homemade marinade I just injected into you. I like to make sure my meal is thoroughly seasoned and prepared for the right flavor." he grinned as he set the injector down. “ _Now_ you’re more than ready to cook.”

Lawrence took Dean’s dick and balls over to the counter, rinsed them and placed them on his cutting board. He deftly chopped the dick into pieces and set the balls aside to prepare later. Wordlessly he returned to his waiting meal.

He pulled the door to the oven open, added some extra wood below to lessen the fire and guided the table forward. The wheels creaked softly at the weight on the table as it rolled across the floor before stopping as the end of the table pressed up against the oven. It was the perfect height to slide the pan onto the rack inside the oven. Lawrence gripped the edges of pan and slid it along the top of the table as the hunter, Dean Winchester his license had read, started to jerk and struggle. Muffled sobs and screams reached Lawrence’s ears, but he kept hauling Dean forward and holding him in place.

It was easy to imagine taking that first bite, savoring the rich flavor and eating until he was comfortably full. Lawrence hated hunters and knowing such a delicious meal would come from one only had him savoring the thought of eating this particular meal even more.

The flames warmed him as he pulled the pan closer and closer. His meal struggled harder. Lawrence could see the naked fear in bright green eyes as the light of the fire flashed on warm, tan skin. A grin of delight pulled at his lips as he rubbed his hand along the slick, oiled skin. The oil would help with the cooking process and give the skin a nice crunch.

Without remorse Lawrence used enough force to start guiding the pan into the oven. Muffled screams filled the room as the faint scent of flesh starting to cook began to fill the air. Lawrence closed his eyes, listening to the sweet sounds and regretted the apple for a moment, before he continued to push the pan in slowly.

The hunter deserved the slow torture of cooking alive and knowing he was going to be eaten by one of the very things he hunted and killed.

“Don’t worry I’ll kill any of your fellow hunters later. They may or may not have the same fate depending on their age and how ripe they are but they will know exactly what happened to you. I always take pictures before cooking and of the finished product before I start cutting off pieces to eat. I'll make sure to show them. They'll get to see you all prepared. I’ll have images of how good you look with a golden brown cook to your skin and stuffing leaking out of your plump ass.”

Lawrence gave the pan one more push and instead of shutting the oven door he stood there watching and listening. The hunter howled and screamed into the apple, struggling on the pan that was no doubt burning the flesh of his knees and face, as the fire began cooking him.

“Feel that?” he grinned, “I told you that you were going to feel the fire slowly cooking you. Feel how it’s warming that fat belly of yours? Can you smell yourself cooking?”

Slowly he took in a savoring breath, eyes fluttering and lips parting, as the scent of the hunter cooking saturated the air. Lawrence made sure to take a picture of Dean’s stuffed ass and the smooth, burned place where his manhood used to be as the flames grew beneath him.

He remained standing there, watching as the hunter was slowly cooked alive and thinking about all of the stuffing he’d managed to fill the hunter with. “You smell better than I thought.” Lawrence inhaled, moaning at the scent of cooking meat, as he watched with rapt attention and hungry greed. “Look at that hole filled with stuffing and plugged up with a fresh carrot." his eyes hungrily stared at the carrot peeking out of Dean's stuffed ass, "At least hunters are good for something.”

A sigh of satisfaction escaped him as Lawrence closed the distance and curled his fingers around the handle of the oven door. This close he could appreciate Dean's struggles and the loud, desperate sobs of pain escaping the hunter as Dean was cooked alive.

He closed the oven door and gazed in as the flames continued to grow beneath Dean. The sounds of the hunter suffering before he died filled his ears as he slowly stepped back to listen for a few more moments.

The sound of wood splintering and cracking had him jerking around. He reached down to grab one of his knives, fingers gripping the handle tightly, as a middle-aged man stepped in. Behind him Dean continued to howl in pain inside the oven as he stepped forward.

A gun rose up and before Lawrence could react the bullet slammed into his skull dropping him to the floor with a gaping hole in the center of his head.

At the door John Winchester rushed into the room and looked around for the source of the screams. He stepped over the dead body on the floor, glancing around, as he tried to figure out where the screams were coming from. They continued to increase, desperate and terrified, as he desperately searched. They had to be from a trap door or something.

He searched and searched, ignoring the dead body on the ground, as the screams slowly started to lessen in volume as John kept looking. It almost took him too long before he realized the sounds, weakening and getting softer, were coming from the oven.

Horror filled him as he rushed forward and grabbing two mitts. John yanked the oven door open before he started to haul the pan out of the oven.

On the burning metal his son was badly burned, sobbing softly and weakly shaking, with an apple shoved into his mouth. Dean’s wrists and ankles were a bloody mess where wire had cut into the skin.

“Fuck. Fuck, Dean.” He felt sick at the scent of burning flesh and the obvious signs of cooking that Dean’s body had sustained as his son weakly struggled on the pan. It was clear how close Dean had been to succumbing to death as the oven had cooked him. John’s hands were shaking as he desperately worked at removing the wire from Dean’s wrists, ignoring how the hot metal burned him, until he could toss it aside and start on Dean’s ankles.

It was slow going and the entire time Dean was softly sobbing into the apple still secured in his mouth. A glance up almost had him throwing up as he noticed what Dean was missing.

“It’s going to be ok. I’ll get you out of here and to the hospital. You’re going to be alright, Dean. It’s going to be ok.” He kept repeating it over and over as he removed the cord from Dean’s neck, noting the red mark where it had burned his skin.

Dean would have scars from this for the rest of his life.

The apple was removed next, tossed aside, as Dean’s sobs and broken sounding cries got louder. John ignored the burn marks from the wire on the sides of Dean's face and how Dean's entire body was hairless. “Dad.” It was the only word Dean managed, voice mangled sounding, as John hauled him up off the hot metal pan.

He set Dean down on a nearby chair and jerked when Dean howled, body jerking and shuddering, even as he struggled to get up and failed.

That was when John could see the way Dean’s belly was unnaturally swollen and his underside was burned badly. The marks on Dean’s knees, upper body and his chin were worse than his belly. The lack of Dean’s dick and balls had nausea rolling inside him. Along various points of Dean's body he could see swollen marks, Dean's skin raised up as though something had been inserted just under the skin, as he continued to take assessment.

“What did he do to you?” John whispered in horror as tears continued to spill down Dean’s cheeks and his muscles twitched under his burned skin. “Dean?” he watched as Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, slumping backwards.

John slowly managed to get to his feet and left the kitchen in search of something to wrap Dean in. He found a soft cover and brought it back, touching Dean as little as possible, as he wrapped Dean’s naked body.

He shoved his gun into the back of his pants, bent down and gathered Dean up. John grunted as he cradled Dean in his arms and started the slow trek through the woods back to the car.

The whole time he listened for anyone else in the woods and for Dean’s labored breathing. He almost sobbed in relief when he saw the Impala waiting at the edge of the woods and he gently laid Dean in the backseat, wincing when Dean whimpered and cried out.

It was one of the longest car rides he’d taken, driving miles upon miles to the nearest hospital as Dean cried out in the backseat and flinched each time he moved. “We’re almost there. Almost. Just hold on, Dean. I’m going to get you help.”

The Emergency sign glowed red in the distance as he picked up speed and slid into the hospital parking lot. Rushing around the car he carefully picked Dean back up and stumbled up to the Emergency entrance.

“Help! My boy needs help!”

“What happened? What’s his name?”

“He was attacked and kidnapped. I found him like this.”

“His name?”

“Dean.”

The rest of it was a blur of questions, paperwork and the horror of watching his sobbing son being wheeled off into the ER. Hours seemed to disappear as he paced and threatened the nurse for more information.

“The doctor will let you know as soon as he can.”

“I want to know what’s wrong with my son. I’m his father I have a right.”

The door opened revealing the doctor, pale and grim, as he walked towards them. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes. How is my son? Is he going to be alright?”

“He isn’t out of the woods.”

John stood there numbly as the doctor spoke of how badly burned Dean was, of the horrible tears in Dean’s anus and damage to both his wrists and ankles. He almost threw up when the doctor spoke of discovering a large carrot lodged inside Dean’s anus and of the stuffing filling both Dean’s stomach as well as his intestines. The wire had cut and burned into Dean's skin. The doctor was more then sure Dean would have scars for the rest of his life.

“We’re not completely sure on the internal damage and won’t be until we can get inside to remove the…stuffing.” The doctor paused, pained looking, before continuing. “He’ll have to have multiple surgeries to correct the damage, stitches. This is just the physical damage. After what happened to your son I think it would be best if he spoke with someone after. He might...he might never be the same after something like this. It looks like someone was trying to...cook him.”

There was a long pause and John knew exactly what the doctor was hesitating on bringing up but the man didn’t wait long before addressing it.

“He will also need extensive surgeries after sustaining…after being fully castrated. The area was very badly burned, it appears as though whoever cut him didn't care to limit the trauma and in order for your son to be able to function he will need multiple surgeries to fix the damage.”

“Is he’s going to be fine, physically?”

“We have some of the best doctors in the area. We’ll do everything we can. I really need to get back in there. We’ll keep you updated.” he paused, "It also looks as though, from what we managed to get from your son when he was conscious, that whoever did this to him used a...marinade injector all over Dean's body. We don't know what kind of damage that might have caused."

John swallowed roughly, hands shaking, as he dropped down into a nearby chair and stared as the doctor walked away.

“ _Stuffing_? Marinade injector?” he closed his eyes and tried to wrap his mind around it. For all intents and purposes that old man had been trying to cook his son alive and had stuffed Dean like a fucking turkey. His mind rebelled at thinking of what Dean was missing. John slowly leaned back into the chair and tried not to think about the reason Dean’s belly had been so bloated but the images were burned into his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Before I get comments for this fic I want to point out that this was a prompt. I did not come up with the basic idea nor some of the very specific elements (ie. stuffing/oiling etc) like all the fics on this account. All the fics I've written under this username are prompt fills.
> 
> This is an alternate version/ending where Dean gets prepared to be eaten, tortured a bit and shoved into the oven but saved before he actually gets cooked. Obviously this kind of thing is going to physically and psychologically damage the individual. Dean's body is very damaged as I'm sure you noticed (due in large part to one of the notable differences).
> 
> So what did you think about it? Dean didn't really get off very well in either version, did he?


End file.
